


The Clauses of a Partnership

by fanfictiongreenirises



Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [9]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne's Insecurities, Dick Grayson is Robin, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, no beta and no coffee, or he will be when he realises he Is a parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23163940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: “You wanna play?” Dick called out from behind him.Bruce looked at the two of them, Clark so in his element with his hair a mess for once and glasses askew from a stray hit, and Dick with his face flushed from excitement. “I…” he cleared his throat, forcing his heartbeat to stay baseline, “maybe next time. I have a couple things to finish up.”Or, the one where Bruce is hesitant to play action figures with Dick and Clark because he's worried he'll be terrible at it.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Clark Kent
Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622032
Comments: 35
Kudos: 354





	The Clauses of a Partnership

**Author's Note:**

> For the "I love you" square on my bingo card!!! For @sElkieNight60 I hope you like it <3
> 
> this took so long mostly because,,, it's so hard getting these two to say 'i love you' to each other in a way that feels natural??? (also because uni suddenly decided that three weeks in is enough time to hit us with assignments and homework together lol i'm here praying they'll cancel the workshops so i don't have to go in for them)
> 
> Disclaimer: If I owned DC I'd drop out of both my degrees Right Now

THIS FANFICTION IS HOSTED ON **ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN** , WHERE YOU CAN READ IT FOR **FREE**. IF YOU’RE READING THIS ON A DIFFERENT WEBSITE, IT WAS POSTED THERE **WITHOUT** THE AUTHOR’S CONSENT.

There was something inspiring about how quickly Dick seemed to bounce back. Ever since they’d caught Zucco, his spirits appeared to be heading upwards with no sign of hitting a maximum limit. There were no boundaries to how loud he could hoot, to how widely he could grin, when he was feeling like it. Which was most of the time, really.

Bruce observed all of this in silence, as was his way. He couldn’t help it, watching Dick with Clark, whose intense role playing game had evolved, somehow, into actually flying in the air with said action figures.

“Isn’t that cheating?” Bruce commented. His insides lit with satisfaction as he saw Clark jump (still in the air) at the sound of his voice. It still surprised him to realise that his home was one place Superman let his guard down.

“Nope,” Dick said, turning to him. _He_ , Bruce was pleased to note, hadn’t started in the slightest. “It’s all part of clause F, section three.”

Bruce hadn’t realised they’d gone past clause A, let alone all the way to _F._ He grunted in acknowledgement of the ‘rules’ – rules that Dick was blatantly abusing by leaving loop holes for himself – and turned to leave.

“You wanna play?” Dick called out from behind him.

Bruce looked at the two of them, Clark so in his element with his hair a mess for once and glasses askew from a stray hit, and Dick with his face flushed from excitement. “I…” he cleared his throat, forcing his heartbeat to stay baseline, “maybe next time. I have a couple things to finish up.”

Dick’s face fell slightly, resigned, but he hummed his acknowledgement.

Clark tilted his head at Bruce. “If you finish soon, I’m sure we’ll have enough time to explain the rules to you.”

Bruce couldn’t tell what Clark’s reasoning was, giving Dick false hope. Already, his ward’s face had lit up, and he was giving Bruce, at full speed, tips on how to write fast.

“I’ll do my best,” he allowed, knowing full well his friend wasn’t going to let him break his half-promise.

Dick cheered, flipping backwards from his seated position. Clark swooped in to catch him midair, tossing him upwards in a way that had Dick giggling.

* * *

Alfred wasn’t pleased with Bruce. He was looking at him pointedly; Bruce did his best to keep his eyes on the laptop screen in front of him. He hoped Alfred didn’t come away from the door – the only thing his screen was displaying was the case they’d just finished the night before, report fully written.

“Mr Kent wished to come himself,” Alfred said. “I told him I would.”

“Alf…” Bruce sighed, trailing off. He’d faked being on the phone when he’d heard Dick’s footsteps coming to get him for dinner, and now, once Clark and Dick had finished eating, it seemed that Clark was relentless on his attempts at getting Bruce to play with them.

“What I don’t understand,” Alfred continued, walking further into the room and straightening a stray pillow here and there, “is what you’re so intent on avoiding. Master Dick is a charming boy, and you’re good friends with Mr Kent.”

Bruce let out another breath. “I’m not good at playing,” he said grudgingly.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “I assure you, Master Bruce, that that isn’t a criterion of play.” He walked over to the desk, shuffling a few piles of paper so they would resemble more of a coherent stack and less of a pile to be sent to the trash. “Master Dick won’t care either way. Children rarely do, as long as you spend time with them.”

“I spend time with him.” Bruce hated the slightly defensive tone his words took.

“Vigilantism does not count.” Alfred fixed his gaze on him, and Bruce stood. Alfred nodded. “I will let them know you’re coming.”

Which was how Bruce found himself manoeuvring the action figure of Michelangelo the ninja turtle. In Clark’s hand was an action figure of Iron Man, the comic character, and Dick held Superman, his prized toy.

Just last week, Dick had asked Bruce to play superheroes with him. The second time Bruce had refused to, he’d offered to let Bruce be Superman.

Bruce hadn’t had to refuse him a third time – Lucius had called, with some urgent decision needing to be made, and he’d had the perfect excuse to rush off.

“Okay, B, now you gotta close in from the left flank,” Dick was saying, gaze narrowed in on the hoard of killer monkeys that were being controlled by Clark’s left hand, “while Superman flies in from the rooftop.”

“Wouldn’t the Flash be better positioned there?” Bruce muttered, complying anyway.

Clark shook his head almost before Dick did, but Dick answered, “Because of the events leading to clause B, section three point one, the Flash isn’t allowed in the city anymore. He has to listen to the law, because he’s a superhero.”

Bruce huffed a laugh. “Okay, then.”

He made a few fighting noises, intentionally aiming his action figure at the fleshy, ticklish parts of Clark’s palm. Clark narrowed his eyes at him, attacking using the killer monkeys with zeal. Dick, who was now busy rescuing citizens, exclaimed to Bruce that he was finally getting it.

* * *

Dick had been told to get ready for bed, but he’d snuck back downstairs with a comic book in hand, sitting beside Clark. What had started out as a conversation between Bruce and Clark ended up being about some aspect of the superhero game, Clark promising Dick with sincerity to not forget the rules they’d changed.

Apparently this wasn’t a first time occurrence. Because apparently, this was a regular game the two of them played, with the rules and guidelines and universe having been created and built upon since the second or third time Clark had visited.

Alfred was most certainly wrong about this, Bruce reflected, sipping from his cup of tea as he listened to Dick and Clark chat. It was evident that Clark was _very_ skilled at playing with kids. He wondered, sometimes, whether Dick would be better off with him; Clark was a natural with him, and Dick adored Clark and looked up to him in a way he didn’t Bruce.

Dick wouldn’t even have to give up Robin, not really. He could modify himself to be able to fight in Metropolis’ streets, to be able to grapple after Clark when something happened.

Bruce imagined it for a moment, hearing their hushed voices, and then discarded the thought immediately, but not without guilt.

“Bruce?” Clark said softly. “I think it’s time for me to head home.”

Bruce blinked. Clark was standing up carefully, shifting Dick so his head rested against the cushiony couch. He hadn’t even noticed Dick falling asleep.

“Remembering all those clauses must’ve tired him out,” Bruce said dryly.

Clark huffed a laugh. “Don’t tell him this, but I have them all written down on my phone. I read through it before I come over, so I don’t forget.”

Bruce stared at him, before carefully filing the thought away and standing up. His knees creaked. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

They stopped in the foyer to grab the bag of food Alfred had packed for Clark, as he always did. Bruce stood at the door, arms folded as Clark did up his shoelaces.

“Bruce,” Clark said. “You’re good with him. You’d just be better, if you were there for the normal kid parts even a fraction of time that you’re there with the Robin parts.”

Bruce could see before him a different future, one much colder, where he said to Clark, right now, _I think Dick would be better off with you as his guardian and mentor._ He stayed quiet.

Clark looked at him searchingly. “I’ll see you soon,” he told Bruce finally, when Bruce said nothing.

“Have a safe flight,” Bruce said.

* * *

It was warm in the living room. Bruce contemplated draping a blanket over Dick and leaving him to sleep on the couch as he was, curled up into a ball with the comic he’d brought down lying beside him.

But Dick was still tiny, and light as a feather, and Bruce didn’t want him waking up alone in the dark with no recollection of where he was. He placed the comic on the coffee table first, then came around to lift Dick up.

He must not have been smooth enough, because Bruce had barely straightened when Dick stirred. His small hands came to scrabble at Bruce’s chest, shifting against Bruce’s shoulder.

“’ruce?” he mumbled, still mostly asleep.

“Yes,” Bruce rumbled. “You fell asleep on the couch.”

“Oh.” Bruce thought he’d drifted off again when Dick spoke. “Thanks for playing with us today,” he said, stifling a yawn.

Bruce didn’t know what to say to that. He made a noise he hoped Dick would interpret generously.

“I know you don’t like playing,” Dick was saying, words only half coherent, “but it’s real cool of you to join us. You’re a really good Mikey. Even better than _Alfred._ ”

Bruce hadn’t known that Alfred played with Dick. “That’s a big compliment,” he said, not knowing quite how to respond to that. _He’d_ thought his attempts at being the turtle were terrible, particularly compared to how naturally both Dick and Clark seemed to be at narrating the movements of their action figures.

“You’d get the hang of it if you played more,” Dick said. “When you’re not too busy.”

“I’ll join you and Clark next time he comes over.” The promise fell from Bruce’s lips before he’d barely even thought it through.

“Really?” Dick seemed ten times more awake than he’d been moments ago.

Bruce nudged open the door to Dick’s room with a hip. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be,” he allowed. Which was true; his knowledge of what was expected in a game with action figures had been rather limited, particularly in a _group_ , but Clark and Dick had been more patient than Bruce probably would’ve been.

Dick wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck tightly. “Love you, B,” he said, voice muffled against Bruce.

Bruce froze for a moment, before lifting a hand to awkwardly pat Dick’s back. “I…love you too,” he said, voice stilted with the dusty words.

He pulled the sheets back, placing Dick on the bed. Dick settled himself in, pulling the covers up around him until only his head stuck out.

Bruce was about to leave, head still reeling, when Dick said, “Can you get Zitka?”

Bruce paused, halfway to the door. “Don’t you have it – her – with you?”

Dick shook his head. “I put her on the bookcase when I was tidying.”

Bruce spotted the stuffed elephant almost immediately. He retrieved it, placing it in Dick’s outstretched arms. The elephant also vanished under the covers, with only its trunk remaining visible.

“Thanks, B.”

Bruce gave him the shadow of a smile as he said goodnight. Sleep would elude him tonight, no doubt. Maybe he would ask Clark for that list of his to read through.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!! My bingo card is in the series description if anyone wants to request a square. I have a growing list of requests that I'm going to try pumping out as soon as I can, so keep in mind it may take a while for me to get to yours ^~^
> 
> Thanks for reading and feel free to hmu on [tumblr](https://fanfictiongreenirises.tumblr.com/)!!


End file.
